


Hydrangeas Calling for Thunder

by underdrift



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Airships, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Music, Light Angst, M/M, Solarpunk, dont @ me, i guess?, idk where im going with this fic but here it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 22:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21309739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underdrift/pseuds/underdrift
Summary: An airship drifted overhead, slow and lazy in the humid summer air. Hongjoong let his eyes follow it until it disappeared from view. Yunho ran his fingers through the grass by Hongjoong's side, and when he spoke, his voice was almost wistful, laden with something Hongjoong couldn't recognize but undeniably sincere."When you find a way out of this city... I'll go with you."::The only parts of his past that Hongjoong isn't running away from are the rain, the river, the stars, and Yunho.
Relationships: Jeong Yunho/Kim Hongjoong
Kudos: 17





	Hydrangeas Calling for Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on the album [球体 (sphere) by Daichi Miura](https://open.spotify.com/album/0sG5eHkkoCNcpqH4gyneBX?si=nLaS8t8bS6q3b7qnaxobjw). It's one of my favorite albums of all time and this idea came to me while listening to it and I couldn't get it out of my head so here it is. You can find lyric translations for the album [here](https://zuihitsu.blog/tag/%e5%a4%a7%e7%9f%a5%e4%b8%89%e6%b5%a6/).
> 
> This is my first fic in years so this isn't beta read and I don't really know where I'm going with it but uh, here it is. 
> 
> Yell at me: [twt](https://twitter.com/underdrift_) :: [cc](https://curiouscat.me/underdrift)
> 
> Title is from [Telepathy](https://open.spotify.com/track/5C5lJRwk2pCDfsBUypjmNo?si=pIXwupj5R122-5Z2EXc5Mg), from the album linked above.

** _Summer, year 4._ **

The rain tapped rhythmically against the smudged window of the room, rented quarters hardly larger than the capsule hotels that had become staples of the larger cities of the north. Lying in bed, sleepless as the the rain fell and the first rays of the sunrise peeked through the curtains, Hongjoong heaved a heavy sigh.

Their journey had been halted by the rain, heavy and ceaseless for days, drenching their sails and trapping the crew indoors for any activities not vital to the progress of the ship unless they, too, wanted to become soaked by the downpour. The airship could withstand the rain, sure, but the slowed progress and the cold damp air seeping into the cabins had made putting into port increasingly appealing. They had the cash to spare, so upon reaching Okinawa they had posted up in an old inn, their ship parked in a hangar space to dry, and settled in to wait out the storm.

The first few days in port the crew had spent working on the ship, sweeping trapped rainwater from the decks to the drainage vents and patching any leaks revealed by the downpour. Daichi, the hangar owner, had been a regular customer of the crew’s deliveries in the past, trading scrap steel from Hong Kong for access to his tools and hangar space. When not working on the ship, the crew had spent the days wandering the town, using awnings and alleyways to shield themselves from the rain and bartering with locals and fellow traders who were stuck in the same rain-locked predicament.

Three days in, they had finished the last of their ship repairs. Once the rain let up they would be on their way, but for the time being they remained grounded, so in the mean time they rewarded themselves for their completed ship repairs with alcohol and good local food, and returned to the inn in the early hours of the morning to sleep off the hangover and hopefully the last of the storm.

Unfortunately, neither sleep nor the end of the storm came for Hongjoong as the hours ticked by and the light of the dawn seeped into the room. His brain foggy with the lack of sleep and the last remnants of the night's adventures, Hongjoong stared up at the ceiling while Mingi snored blissfully from the bunk below him. The ceiling, dull white and emotionless as the foggy sky that had blanketed the city outside the inn for the week, stared back at him.

::

** _Spring, year 2._ **

There had been another storm like this one early in the spring of their second year on the ship. The rainy season had come early to the pacific, bringing with it cold fog and endless rain. Like the storm pelting the windows of the inn in Okinawa two years later, the spring storm wasn’t windy enough to force them to land, but it was still rainy and foggy and depressing for days on end. Without the funds to derail their voyage and take shelter, they had chosen to continue to sail.

Far above the ground, the storm enveloped the ship in a dense, syrupy fog that stuck to your skin and made it hard to breathe as rain fell steadily, soaking the deck and sails and anyone that dared venture out of the cabins. In every direction, the sky was matte white. Staying indoors became a defense from both the drenching rain and the creeping madness that arose if you looked at the blank white of the fog for too long.

“How much more rain do you think this storm has in it?” Yunho had mused, five days into the storm. “I feel like I’m gonna lose it if this continues for much longer.”

They were in Hongjoong’s room in the ship. The sun had set about an hour before, the only exciting time of day amidst the dregs of the storm as the sunset tinted the white canvas of the clouds gold, then pink, then deep purple before fading to the black of night. Some evenings they would risk getting soaked by an errant gust of rain-laden wind to sit out under the narrow awning by the entrance to the cabin and watch the sun set.

That evening the wind was a little harsher than usual, and they had chosen to stay indoors. Hongjoong sat his desk while Yunho sat hunched over on Hongjoong’s bed, paper trade logs half sorted into folders stacked around him, forgoing the convenience of the desk in his own room for the comfort of company in Hongjoong’s.

“At what point does the sky just run out of water?” Yunho continued.

“Yes, hello, laws of physics? I would like a word,” Hongjoong quipped back with a laugh, looking up from the jacket sleeve he was patching. Yunho set his work aside with a groan and ran his fingers through his hair, the natural black of his roots well on its way to reclaiming his hair from the blonde he had bleached it on the new year.

“I’m just tired of it, you know?”

Hongjoong nodded. He knew as well as anyone that they were all tired of it, himself growing increasingly stir-crazy as the days stretched on. He put down the jacket, carefully placing the sewing needle so he wouldn’t lose it when he returned to the project, and gestured for Yunho to scoot over on the bed. Yunho stacked the papers scattered around him and placed them on the floor, and Hongjoong sat down beside him. The mattress dipped slightly under their combined weight, pressing their shoulders together, and Hongjoong rested his head on the taller man’s shoulder.

It was a small, unspoken gesture of comfort that had become almost a tradition in their friendship. They had grown since the years where Hongjoong had clung desperately to the warmth of Yunho’s side like a life raft for a drowning man, a small light shining in the depths of many years of hopeless sadness and anger. They were grown men now, much of that darkness left behind in their old hometown, but the comfort of each other’s friendship remained.

“You know what I miss the most?” Hongjoong started quietly, and Yunho hummed for him to continue. “Seeing the stars at night. I never really thought about how much of a difference they make, but looking up and seeing nothing but the same shitty gray clouds every night, I miss them.”

Yunho laughed gently at the scowl in Hongjoong's voice and looked up at the ceiling above them. It was impossible to see the stars from inside the cabin, of course, even if there wasn't the storm's thick blanket of fog obscuring them, but Yunho eyed the ceiling in thought.

"Hold on," Yunho mumbled, scooting off the bed and slipping out into the hallway without an explanation. Hongjoong blinked at the doorway where Yunho had disappeared and briefly considered following him, but he before he had the chance to follow up on that consideration, Yunho retuned with a can of paint.

"Yunho, what--"

"I had an idea," Yunho said simply, holding out a brush to Hongjoong and then kneeling to open the can. The paint inside was deep blue, the color that had been used to decorate the exteriors of the cabins before the crew had repainted it a deep crimson. The can must have been left behind by the ship's previous owners, and even though the crew had no use for it now, it must have stuck around in storage somewhere.

Beside it, Yunho also opened a smaller can of glittery gold. That one Hongjoong recognized, they had used it to paint the ship's new name on its hull, Aurora, the last bit of work on the ship before they had set sail for the first time. Hongjoong's chest tightened at the memory: the last step of a new beginning.

"It's just an idea, and it's not... the actual stars, of course, but," Yunho looked up at the ceiling, then down at the paint cans by his knees on the floor, then up at Hongjoong with a smile, "Painted stars are better than no stars, right?"

Hongjoong blinked at the brush in his hand and again at Yunho, whose soft smile was filled with such earnestness that Hongjoong found it hard to breathe and even harder to refuse.

"Okay."

::

Painting a ceiling turned out to be more difficult than either of them had anticipated. By the time they had finished, it was well into the night, their arms sore from painting and hair and clothing covered with specks of blue and gold.

The room was quiet as they laid on Hongjoong's bed to look up and admire their handiwork. The soft sound of the rain tapping on the cabin roof reminded them of the neverending storm outside, but looking up at the freshly painted stars and feeling the warmth of Yunho's body from beside him, their shoulders just slightly touching, Hongjoong couldn't care less about the storm.

"I like it," Yunho said to break the silence. His voice was sleepy, but even without looking at him Hongjoong could tell that he was smiling.

He hoped his own voice wouldn't betray the flicker of fire in his chest and on his cheeks as he tipped his head to look over at Yunho.

"Me too. Thank you."


End file.
